


The time Henry got high on edibles

by macbethundead



Category: Secret History - Donna Tartt
Genre: Alcohol, Other, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:43:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29858274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macbethundead/pseuds/macbethundead
Summary: Short text where Richard shows up at the twins with Judy and a lot of edibles.





	The time Henry got high on edibles

\- Come on, try it!  
\- There is no way I eat this thing.  
Judy looked down at Henry, a hand on the plastic bag opened between us. It was Friday afternoon, we were at the twins’ and I left my dorm at six with Judy hanged at my arm, bad tripping and chatty. “You don’t want to go to the twins’,” I said to her before leaving. “Of course I do! Come on! Camilla is nice, and Charles’ cute!” – “They won’t let you in.” – “Of course they will let me in! Richie boy, I’m bored and too high, don’t leave me alone.” And when we arrived at the twins’, she had descended from the weed and was back to her regular self, meaning annoying and loud. At my big surprise, Camilla opened the door and gave her the French greeting kiss, as if they were close friends. I felt like I missed an episode, though this feeling is one consistent in my life.  
Inside, Charles and Henry were playing Poker, sleeves rolled up, a bit drunk, and Francis was cooking in the kitchen. I already ate one edible on the way and was hungry out of my mind; I was feeling slightly dizzy and nauseous. Camilla poured us a drink and I went with her in the kitchen to say hi to Francis. He was in an incredibly good mood and I guess he got good news, but he wouldn’t tell me what.  
\- What are you cooking?  
\- Ribs and spinach. Do you like spinach? Would you get me a drink, my dear? he asked Camilla, kissing her on the forehead, one hand on the pan, the other grabbing the salt shaker.  
\- Bourbon?  
\- Sounds alright.  
In the living room, Charles, drunk, was losing and losing and was getting annoyed. Henry, calm as a Buddhist monk, kept giving him sharp advices, full of good feelings. He was prodigally ignoring Judy, and when Charles began to sigh, he reached his glass and both abandoned the game.  
\- So whatdya got, Poovey? asked Charles.  
\- Edibles. I hope you’ll take some; I have so many I’m scared I will get in trouble if I ask Cloke to sell it.  
\- What is it? said Henry, mildly curious.  
\- Brownies. With pot in them. Want one?  
\- No.  
\- Come on.  
\- I said no.  
But eventually, mostly after he saw Charles take one and shew dreamily, he took a second thought (I could read it on his face, as Charles was slowly beginning to get calmer and happier) and reached for the bag, mumbling something is Latin. Judy was watching him on the side of her eyes, laughing.  
\- Take only one, big boy. These are strong.  
I was going on my second and was beginning to feel really sick. I went to get a glass of water in the kitchen, where Camilla and Francis were chatting loudly about Rousseau (Camilla hated him while Francis had enjoyed Les Confessions, which he just finished reading in French).  
\- What’s going on? Why are you smiling like a maniac?  
I was feeling like I was walking on cotton.  
\- We’re eating space cakes. I need water.  
\- Take the carafe with you or you’re going to come and go every five minutes.  
When I came back in the living room, Charles was laughing softly but in a constant high-manner, and Henry was drinking his Bourbon in silence.  
\- Maybe you should take another one? asked Judy.  
\- Hey, maybe not, I said went I sat down with them.  
\- Why not? said Charles, you’re big, Henry. Maybe you should…  
\- Wait for about twenty minutes, said Judy, checking her fancy red watch.  
Minute after minute, the living-room grew quieter as the weed was kicking. Charles and I were the most intoxicated. Every time our eyes met, we were beginning to laugh and Henry was sending us death stares. Finally, he got annoyed and reached for the bag.  
\- Alright. This is not working.  
\- Are you sure… I said softly. Henry, are you…  
\- Hey! shouted Judy, leave us some!  
Ten minutes later, Henry got high out of his mind. Laughing hysterically, Charles staggered to the kitchen and called for his sister and Francis. “You gotta watch that, he said, I heard. Jesus fucking Christ, he’s reciting Plato’s Republic from the beginning.”  
Slowly, Henry’s lecture became the center of the attention. Charles and Judy were laughing hysterically, but Henry wasn’t stopping his autonomous monologue. Francis kept serving drinks to everyone, and soon, everyone was giggling. When Henry reached the pick of his lecture, his voice rising suddenly with a I-Am-A-Genius pitch, Charles fell on the floor, crying, and I began to choke on my own saliva, and Francis had to get me water.  
\- Jesus Christ, Henry, he said, amused. He’s not going to stop, is he? Give me one.  
Somehow, Francis high was even funnier than Henry. He began to tell us a long and complicated story (I didn’t get a word of it, since he was stumbling and correcting and slowly beginning to lose his words and laugh) and at some point, he and Henry were talking simultaneously and we couldn’t understand anything anymore. Judy was crying. “Oh my God. I should get high more often with straight-asses. You’re fucking hilarious.”  
Camilla only didn’t take any, but she was quite drunk and soon, as the high ones began to grow quieter and sleepier, she too began to laugh, just by seeing our faces. Henry fell asleep suddenly, in the very middle of a sentence, and Charles, with quick metabolism, turned to beverage to end the evening. Eventually, we got to eat dinner, because the ones still awake were hungry out of their minds. We ate slowly, shewing and shewing, food tasting like wood, watering the ribs with Gin Tonics. When Judy and I left, it was past eleven, I was drunk and still laughing; Henry was snorting in the living-room, Francis was walking Charles to bed and Camilla had put a Jacqueline du Pré CD while tiding our mess. On our way home, Judy didn’t stop talking, but I wasn’t listening.  
Next day, I saw Henry, looking haggard and hungovered.  
\- How do you feel, I asked him?  
\- Weird. I feel like I have been hit by a truck, but just a little one. Did I embarrass myself?  
\- You don’t remember?  
\- I don’t know. I dreamt of Plato.  
\- I can understand why.  
\- So? he said, annoyed.  
\- You were just very yourself. Don’t worry.  
After this day, Henry didn’t touch anything else than alcohol and got angry every time we talked about that night. Judy is still laughing about it at this day. It was a fun evening.


End file.
